


I’m sorry, my heart

by Sylveranty



Category: Breach: The Archangel Job
Genre: Baby, F/M, being a father, tw: anxiety, tw: death (mention), tw: torture (mention)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:21:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24952240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylveranty/pseuds/Sylveranty
Summary: Rook has just become a first time dad. This drastic change in his life doesn't only bring positive emotions, but also stirrs haunting images from his past.
Kudos: 21





	I’m sorry, my heart

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Desi for translating the Spanish bits for me!
> 
> This fic is inspired by a group conversation about how Rook might be as a father. The conversation was mostly positive and light-hearted, but I couldn't shake the thought of Rook's PTSD and trauma catching up to him once a vulnerable, fragile little burrito enters his life.
> 
> Though I wrote the mother of Rook's child with a female Raphael in mind, it is kind of ambigious if this actually is Raphael or an unrelated woman.

An ear shattering quiet has fallen over the house. Any sounds of nightlife activity in the city beyond the easily destroyed walls of their home are drowned out by the steady breathing of Rook’s dearest people in the world. His amor’s body moves softly with each shaky breath she draws, her form protectively wrapped around the tiny burrito that was their Teodora _, pointlessly trying to shield her child from rifles and tanks. There was no use, there was never any use. No grass would grow where a shell impacts. Only dust and rumble and limbs and death and screaming and-_

Under Rook’s barely blinking watch, Teddy’s little chest rises and falls in quick succession, her heart working hard on pumping precious blood and oxygen through her fragile body _pouring out of gaping wounds, painting a macabre piece of art on the torn bed sheets_. Rook barely dares to touch her as she lies there, exhausted from all the new sensations of the world she was flooded with. She wasn’t even a week old and _yet he already saw her ripped apart flesh being hidden in the soulless husk of dead wood._ Mostly, she just slept or ate or pooped or _fell four stories deep off the changing table, her body splattering on the ground on impact._

With his pointer finger, Rook carefully caresses the side of her chubby baby arm for a moment _, before pushing his fingers into a wound he inflicted on his victim himself. Tearing, digging, clawing, making his victim cry and scream in pain. Rook’s hand is covered in blood and tissue_ as he pulls back in one abrupt motion. He sits up, covering his face in his disgusting hands as he tries to calm down his pulse, to forget the pictures in front of his mind.

_Shooting in the head shooting in the back shooting in the leg for the fun of it ramming a pen into an eye the neck slashing with a knifemachetekarambit stabbing with a forkdaggerscissors smashing heads in batballhammerstatuesmashsmashsmashnecesitohuirhuirhuir using anything as a weapon that his hands covered in red everything red red redredredreddead everyone is dead fireburninghotheatburnlickingflamesstenchmeltinflesh his mind is up in flames runrunrunrunalwaysruncold noairneverstoprunrunrunCORRECORRECORRECORRECORRERUNFORYOURLIFE suffocating no puedo respirar cantbreathecantbreathemueromemuerofallingfallingfalling…_

His ass painfully crashes on the floor. His lungs scream in agony as he inhales sharply. He is staring at the kitchen counter in front of him, water pouring down and creating a lake around his naked feet. A familiar, warm hand is resting on his cheek, gently turning his head. Another hand is gripping the hair on the back of his head. Water is dripping down from his lashes and eyebrows and chin, and a realization dawns on him as he sees her tear streaked face. His amor doesn’t say a word as she draws Rook closer to herself, pressing his head against her crying, soft heart.

They sit there for a moment, motionless were it not for her body shaking with ever suppressed sob. For once, Rook doesn’t have the energy to move and run away. His thoughts solely centre on the rhythm close to his ear, grounding him in the here and now.

“I am going to call Bishop”, she mumbles against the top of his head. She kisses his hair, before she reluctantly stands up. She turns off the water faucet, then leaves to make the call.

Rook stares at the water catastrophe at his feet as helpless thoughts begin to creep back into his mind, one thought in particular. Teddy. Teddy is lying in their bed, alone, cold, without protection. He scrambles to his feet, feeling old and sluggish in his every bone. The short walk to the bedroom stretches into an eternity, as if he were walking through knee high mud.

Teddy is indeed still lying in the bed, unperturbed by her parents’ absence. Hesitant, Rook picks his sleeping daughter up and then sits down leaning against the bed. He brings her to his chest and rests his head on her soft head that is crowned by fluffy dark hair. Her tiny fingers wrap around the collar of his shirt, her face nuzzles against the crook of his shoulder. Rook feels the weight of responsibility for this bundle of supposed joy around his neck, threatening to behead him. She was too heavy, too heavy… too helpless, too trusting, and he loved her so much with all of his tainted heart that knowing what madness and danger was awaiting her in this world was driving him insane.

He has to get better, has to become worthy to receive her love. Keep her safe, somehow, keep her sane. He does not know how to achieve that, but he wasn’t alone in this, right? His love and Bishop, they’d know how. How to keep him sane… He kisses Teddy’s head with lips that are undeserving of such innocence and trust. Tears fall onto her as Rook is shaken by desperate sobs.

“Lo siento, corazón. Lo siento mucho. Seré mejor. Por favor perdóname. _Perdóname_...”

(“I’m sorry, my heart. I’m so sorry. I’m going to be better. Please forgive me. _Forgive me_...”)


End file.
